


Perfect Date

by RefrainGirl



Series: Be My Ineffable Valentine [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: #ineffablevalentines, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Awkward Dates, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Based on a Tumblr Post, Comforting Crowley (Good Omens), Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Don't copy to another site, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Married Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Originally Posted on Tumblr, Phone Calls & Telephones, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Romantic Fluff, Valentine's Day Fluff, and the rotating door goes round and round, or not in Aziraphale's case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22591066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RefrainGirl/pseuds/RefrainGirl
Summary: Day 6 of the Ineffable Valentines collection.What he wanted was a chance to catch up. Crowley lived in the fast lane, and Aziraphale wanted to match his speed for once. He wanted to be able to show Crowley exactly how much he loved him, too. Was that an impossible goal? To want to prove that he was the same, that everything he saw made Crowley’s name spring into his heart just as swiftly? That ‘too fast’ was no longer too fast for him?Crowley has always been the one to lavish his angel with gifts and dates galore, and Aziraphale feels like he isn't being given a chance to reciprocate. So when the day finally comes for him to take Crowley out, he is ecstatic beyond belief.... But exactly how well can things go when the universe is snickering behind its hand?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Be My Ineffable Valentine [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619938
Comments: 14
Kudos: 67
Collections: Ineffable Valentines 2020





	Perfect Date

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw [this](https://balsamicbootycall.tumblr.com/post/190481262803/crowley-makes-signs-on-pull-doors-say-push) post on Tumblr about how Crowley struggles to open a door because his belief that the door opens is overshadowed by the belief that the universe is gonna mess with him no matter what he does. I read that and thought to myself, "Well, that sounds like it sucks."
> 
> And then this little fic was born. Except this time it's happening to Aziraphale, and Crowley is all kinds of sympathetic 'cause he's been there, too.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy my fun little story!

Aziraphale was planning to go out on a date. It shouldn’t have been such a big deal, really. Dates with Crowley were commonplace now that everything was peaceful with the world again.

The single, tiny thing that actually made it a big deal was that Aziraphale wanted to be the one behind it this time. Being the recipient of his demon’s adoration was always nice, and he was more than appreciative of the thought that went into every single date of his; but he didn’t get many opportunities to do anything for Crowley because he went so far out of his way to spoil him.

Aziraphale didn’t want to give voice to his concerns either, and that was only because he didn’t want to give the impression that he disliked what Crowley did for him. On the contrary, he adored every bit of affection that was sent his way. Going for drives in the Bentley, picnics at the park, countless dinner reservations at the Ritz…

Every instance was lovely. This was his demon’s way of saying ‘I love you’ and he wasn’t about to belittle him for showing it.

But he was starting to feel as if he were the weaker half of their dynamic duo, more like an escort rather than a real husband. There were so many days where he seemed to be taking without offering anything in return. Aziraphale never let on how much it bothered him, but deep down inside he felt that he was severely lacking in the expressing-love department.

It didn’t help matters that Crowley was so earnest, always the one to initiate things. He was the creator of ideas, inventor of a million little guilty pleasures and the most influential masquerading rich person on the planet. Obviously it was going to be very difficult to turn him down when Aziraphale knew that he had likely gone to a lot of trouble for whatever it was he had set up tomorrow.

All the same, a part of him wanted to say no - just so he could counteract it with his own highly tailored plans for a romantic day on the town. He needed to create some kind of opening so that he could set his date idea in motion. If he didn’t, then Crowley would remain a step ahead of him forever. He was already leading Aziraphale around by the arm whenever they went out together, even if it wasn’t for the express purpose of a date. Crowley would stop to show him an older bookshop he’d happened upon, or take him to visit a new bakery that just opened up. They would go out to see play after play, most of them more to Aziraphale’s taste than Crowley’s, but he didn’t seem to mind that much. Usually he spent most of the night watching the sheer delight dance across his angel’s face, and afterwards they spent most of the drive back arguing light-heartedly about why they never went to see more comedies, although they both knew the exact reason why.

Those were amazing memories, positively radiant in the remembering and the retelling. His demon knew him so well, considered his feelings so unconditionally, and seized every available chance to put it on display. In fact, he was so good at loving him that it had led straight to this, to Aziraphale feeling strangely unworthy of being called his husband.

What he wanted was a chance to catch up. Crowley lived in the fast lane, and Aziraphale wanted to match his speed for once. He wanted to be able to show Crowley exactly how much he loved him, too. Was that an impossible goal? To want to prove that he was the same, that everything he saw made Crowley’s name spring into his heart just as swiftly? That ‘too fast’ was no longer too fast for him?

Well, impossible or no, he was going to do it. Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day, the perfect setting for a romantic date, and Aziraphale had somehow managed to draw up a rough draft of a plan in his brain. He was slightly nervous about the execution, but also fairly confident that it would work out in the end. All he had left to do was call the flat and come up with some brilliant way of rerouting the demon’s ambitions for tomorrow. Doubtless he was brimming with ideas, and if Aziraphale wanted to be able to act on his own then he would have to be quick about it.

Taking a deep, grounding breath, he picked up the receiver and dialed Crowley’s number.

There was barely a single ring before he picked up. “Angel, hey,” he drawled, sounding pleased. “I was just thinking about you.”

Probably making plans. It was a good thing he called now, before Crowley got too deeply invested in them. “How did you know it was me?”

“Who else calls me other than you?”

Aziraphale smiled fondly to himself, cradling the receiver in both hands. “You do have a point, although I’m sure you could convince Anathema and Newt to give you a ring if you would let them have your number.”

“I keep forgetting to,” he said nonchalantly. That was a small lie, and not one of the good ones that Crowley was known for, but Aziraphale had decided a long time ago that it was best not to push him into anything he wasn’t ready for. “I’ll get around to it eventually.”

“Of course, dearest.”

“So? You ready for Valentine’s Day?”

Okay, here we go. “Actually, that is precisely why I called. I’m afraid things will be going a bit… differently tomorrow.”

Aziraphale heard a bit of scuffling as Crowley sat down in his chair, and the click of boots hitting the table made him shake his head. “Yeah? How’s that?” the demon asked, seeming slightly more suspicious than curious. “You made plans already?”

“To some extent, yes. I’d like it if you could accompany me, that is if you haven’t already committed yourself to something. I haven’t caught you in the middle of your own plotting, have I…?”

“Mmh. Sorta. But if you have something in mind, I’ll go along with it.”

That… was a bit easier than he had expected. “You will?” he asked, beaming brightly even though he realized that Crowley wouldn’t be able to see it. “Oh, that’s a relief! Thank you, love. It means so much to me that you accepted.”

He had meant it from the bottom of his heart, and it seemed that Crowley was able to sense that. Incoherent sputters of embarrassment traveled through the line as he fought to get a normal word out. “I hadn’t decided on anything specific yet, anyway! ‘S easier to wing it, y’know,” he said with a sigh. “Calm down, angel, jeez. I can feel your sparkling from here.”

The warmth in Crowley’s flustered voice had Aziraphale wishing that he didn’t have to endure another night before it was Valentine’s Day. He didn’t want to have to wait any more. 6,000 years of waiting was plenty for the both of them.

“Crowley, darling, I love you,” he murmured, giggling quietly to himself as he heard what sounded like a very startled demon falling out of his chair. “Are you alright, dear?”

“Y - wh - uh… Fine. Yeah. L-love you too,” he stammered. The static silence spread between them for a minute, and then Crowley was mumbling. “Could you… maybe…?”

“Yes?”

Crowley huffed quietly into the phone, possibly on accident. “I’d, er… I’d like to hear that again…”

Aziraphale felt a tendril of longing snake around his smitten heart, and he leaned both arms on his desk as he stared out into the darkness. “I’ll say it as many times as you like.”

* * *

_Just remember to breathe. Oh. Right, breathing is an illusion. Then, just remain calm, old boy. You can do this._

“Angel… are you sure you’re alright?”

Aziraphale started from the comment, but refused to look up. Crowley was staring down at him with mild concern, he could feel it. And that was quite a bit worse than seeing it. “You’ve been pushing and pulling at this rotating door for…” He paused to check his watch. “Oh, near on two hours. It was kind of funny at first, but are you sure you don’t wanna let me…?”

Two bloody hours!? Honestly! Why was this door giving him so much trouble!?

The angel gritted his teeth. “Perfectly fine,” he said, hoping that his tone matched the airy lightness of his words. “I can handle it, trust me. This door just… it seems to jam itself whenever I make a hint of progress…”

A few more hard yanks made the door shake, but it would not open. For whatever reason it was choosing to be a hindrance, and Aziraphale stepped back from it with a defeated sigh. He had so hoped to take Crowley to see the latest art exhibit they had set up here. There was nothing for it if the door wouldn’t budge, though. Did he read the opening hours wrong on the pamphlet, by any chance? It _had_ been a trying morning, what with the sudden appearance of that strange American book club. Their members had been on a collective field trip around London and had ‘miraculously’ discovered his shop. So many had wanted to haggle over his books, and he simply told them that he wasn’t interested; but even so, they had been very persistent - he had almost reached for his broom a few times.

It had been a thoroughly exhausting experience, having to deal with twenty people in one sitting, and during the early hours of the morning, no less. So it was entirely possible that he had misread the museum’s hours of operation through his haze of weariness.

Aziraphale was just about to turn to apologize to Crowley for this when out of the corner of his eye he noticed Crowley stepping past him, hands in his pockets. “I wouldn’t bother, dearest. I suspect that the museum is - ”

He watched in dumbfounded shock as the demon took one hand out and gave the glass of the door a gentle push. He hardly even brushed it, and the door swung around like a carousel, taunting Aziraphale with its every rotation.

Crowley raised an eyebrow at him. He blinked. “… closed,” he finished weakly.

“Universe out to get you, eh?”

“Er. What?”  
  
He smiled slightly, bringing his free hand back to rest in his pocket. “Happens to me sometimes, too,” he admitted, a bit sheepishly. “Everything’s coming up roses for a while, and then right when you think something should do what it’s supposed to, it doesn’t. Doors suddenly won’t open right, or the Bentley refuses to turn over - which kinda makes no sense, but it happens. I have to tell you though, this is a new kind of extreme. Two whole hours? I never would’ve guessed it was possible, till this evening.”

Aziraphale frowned, trying to ignore his awkward blush for the moment. “Crowley, are you seriously suggesting that this is an actual phenomenon?” he asked, quite disbelievingly.

“I dunno. Just saying, you’re not the only one.”

Diverting his gaze to the clouds overhead, Crowley rubbed at the back of his neck. “Y’know… every once in a while I do it to myself. ‘M having a bad day, so I end up locked out of my apartment building, stuff like that. But things act up more often around me when I’m trying really hard for you. ‘S like I’m more worried about being the best I can be when you’re here, and the universe hears me and just… decides it’d be fun to mess with Crowley.”

What he was saying did make some sense, in a way. Aziraphale had been fretting over similar insecurities and it seemed like as soon as the sun had crested on Valentine’s Day, he found himself being assaulted by so much unexplained chaos apropos of nothing. His bookshop hadn’t been that busy before, not in its entire existence, and there hadn’t been that many customers scrambling to buy his books in… well, it was safe to say he had _never_ seen that many pocketbooks waving about in his presence.

And he wasn’t going to bring his thoughts towards this blasted door.

Aziraphale pursed his lips, glancing off to the side. “I understand what you mean.”

Crowley snorted. “Yeah, ‘course you do. It’s happening to you right now,” he said, grinning. “But d’you know what else that means?”

Aziraphale leaned back as that smirking face came right up close against his, their noses inches away from touching. He swallowed thickly. “That… the universe is ineffable?”

He watched Crowley’s brows knit together in exasperation. “Wh - No! Well, okay, probably. I’ll give you that. But what I was hinting at is something else entirely.”

“I must say, I’m curious to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

The angel slid his hands down Crowley’s chest and sides, relishing in the feel of expensive fabric. He favored such extravagantly pricey clothing these days, or at least the look of them. None of his clothing was made of Earthly materials, of course, but he did quite a good job on making it pass as the real thing.

His fingers eventually found purchase, falling into perfect alignment along those sharp, angular hipbones, and Aziraphale used his leverage to gently pull the demon closer. Having him within reach was a comfort unlike any other, and after such a major setback he did feel like some consolation was needed.

A pout rose unaided to his lips. “I do hope this doesn’t mean that I can’t take you out on a date without humiliating myself,” he said sulkily.

“I don’t know for sure. It hasn’t stopped for me, no matter how many times we go out together.”

Crowley smiled, showing off his gleaming teeth in a rather serpentine manner. “But you must really love me if you’re getting beaten by a rotating door.” The amount of tease in his voice was unbearable, and Aziraphale huffed as he continued to rub it in. “That is some next level universe-thwarting. Don’t think I’ve ever had trouble with one of those, and especially not for two hours.”

“It is certainly not funny, my dear boy,” he tutted, leveling a soft smack to his rear. “I put a great deal of heart into today, and for things to go awry in every way is discouraging, to say the least.”

His date could no longer carry on as planned, not at this hour. The museum was closing, the curator locking up behind him and heading to his car as surrounding streetlights started to flicker on in preparation for the oncoming night. It was all for naught. The moment was not to be, and the disappointment he felt was sinking into more than just his bones.

Aziraphale sighed, nuzzling up under Crowley’s elegant throat, longing to be soothed. “I was hoping to take you out on a proper date. You sweep me off my feet so often that I feel like I never get to do anything remotely as sweet for you. Everything was going to be perfect, and it was far from it.”

He felt Crowley hum thoughtfully as he draped his arms along his shoulders. “Don’t beat yourself up,” he said, pressing a kiss to soft, curly hair. “Today _was_ perfect.”

“Oh, now you’re being nice.”

“You should know by now, ‘m not nice.”

“Liar.”

The demon grumbled something under his breath, and Aziraphale could picture his favorite of Crowley’s many expressions lurking on his expressive face. Cheeks dusted a faint red and a frown that was just a little too lovestruck to be taken for true anger. Narrowed eyes that tried to glare at him but ultimately failed.

“Aziraphale, today was perfect and d’you know why? Because you were there. That’s all it takes. I don’t need to go see an art show with you for it to be called a perfect date. Every day with you is a perfect date.”

He smiled to himself, knowing that Crowley would feel it against his skin. “Do you mean that…?” he asked.  
  
“Are you really asking me if I mean that? Really? Nah, I hate your rotten guts.”

Aziraphale scoffed at the sarcasm and Crowley smiled into his hair, chuckling as he hugged him closer. “What kinda question is that? ‘Course I mean it! You’re my husband, angel. D’you think I married you for your money that you don’t have, or to inherit a bookshop?”

“Crowley,” he sighed with an infinite amount of patience, “one of these days you are going to get smacked upside the head for your glib taunts.”

“I know, I know. But seriously, all the stuff you do for me, it makes my day. Betcha don’t think I notice whenever you put a blanket over me when I fall asleep on the couch at the shop, but I do. You’re always there to comfort me when I have a nightmare, even if I have to call you to talk about it, and you always let me snuggle you when I’m cold or miserable. I love it when you read to me out loud, when you bring me coffee in bed, when you kiss my snake tattoo…”

That last one made his face turn almost as red as his hair. “You don’t have to tell anyone about that, either. ‘S need to know.”

The angel chuckled himself, nodding in agreement. “My lips are sealed, dear.”

“The point is!” He hefted a finger into the air. “I have a list, a massive list, of all the stuff you’ve done for me. I could tell you a million more things if you wanted me to. Trust me, angel, it may not seem obvious, but I know _exactly_ how much you love me, and I wouldn’t ever pick anyone to replace you. ‘M sayin’ there’s no need to worry - you are the single person in this world that’s qualified to stay by my side. Not just that, but you’re the onlyone I _want_ next to me.”

Aziraphale pulled back to blink up into that handsome face smiling down at him, only to melt into Crowley again as he brought their foreheads together. The gentle touch made his eyes slide shut. “That is what this is about, right?” he whispered, lips ghosting against the tip of his nose.

“... It is. Yes. How perceptive of you.”

Crowley snorted. “I’ve been around for 6,000 years, Aziraphale. It’d reflect poorly on me if I couldn’t at least tell that something was wrong by looking at you!”

“Hmm.” He stepped closer into the warm embrace, close enough to feel the gust of Crowley’s uneven breathing against his lips. “You’ve told me in no uncertain terms what I mean to you, but have I told you how much I love you?”

“Even if you don’t say it, you’re always telling me, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled. Believe it or not, a weight had been lifted off of his mind with the utterance of those words. It was what he he had needed to hear, and what he had been hoping he was doing all this time.

But still…

“I’d like to give it a snap, anyway.”

Crowley groaned. “So close. Shot, Aziraphale,” he said, slapping a hand to his face. “It’s ‘give it a shot’, oh my Go - er… Whatever, go on then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come and say hi on Tumblr!
> 
> You can find me at my main blog [@refraingirl](https://refraingirl.tumblr.com/) or at my writing blog [@refraingirl-the-writer](https://refraingirl-the-writer.tumblr.com/)!


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